The Revenge of Koza'Rai
by purenonsense
Summary: After twenty years of peaceful living in New York City, the demons of the night decide that it's their turn to rule the world. Taking matters into their own hands, they decide to resurrect a demon from the pits of hell, focused on revenge for his fallen son. Will the Ghostbusters make it out alive, or will they have to rely on a new group of kids? THE THIRD INSTALLMENT OF APARTMENT
1. The Brotherhood

I do not own Ghostbusters, Ghostbusters II. Rights belong to Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis.  
I own Larry Finkle and the little family from Iowa.

* * *

It was a beautiful day in Central Park – the sun beaming down without a cloud in the sky, children screaming in delight, and numerous trucks and vans had just pulled up, unloading the equipment needed for today's event. The Governor of New York had something to say and wanted a big audience of his supporters. This close to election time, everyone was pretty sure what he was going to say, even calling it that Larry Finkle was going to run for senate.

The University of Columbia had hired one of their brightest and best photographers to document this special occasion. Unfortunately, he dropped out with a case of the flu, so they hired Oscar Barrett.

Oscar weaved around the large crowds of families and random teenagers looking for free food, snapping pictures with his DLS camera. He got a picture of a little girl laughing while eating ice cream, a pair of woman from the Bronx with full 'Finkle 2016' outfits, a beautiful woman in short-shorts – they were brilliant.

Oscar moved closer to the stage, flashing his 'Press' badge at the few security guards that stood watch. He'd gotten a good seat in front of the stage, placing his heavy backpack full of camera goodies on the ground. Looking around he ran his hand over his short, almost bald, hair, watching for anyone who might look like a front page photo. So far, none of them looked like that quality.

A woman grabbed his attention, pulling on his long plaid sleeve as he whizzed around. A middle aged woman stood there, her family of two kids and a defeated husband behind as she smiled with kind eyes. "Excuse me, sir?" She started, getting Oscar's full attention. "Are you a photographer?"  
Oscar smirked. "What gave it away?"  
The woman just laughed as if that was the funniest thing she'd heard in years. "Listen, I know you probably don't do this sort of thing. See, we're from Iowa on vacation in the 'big apple'-" She said, using her hands to make air quotes around the city's nickname. "I was just hoping you might be able to take a picture of us in front of the Empire State Building."

Oscar whizzed her head around smiling, hoping that someone else was around to hear this. The Empire State building? They were in the middle of Central Park, where the hell was she going to get the Empire State building?

She handed him a small disposable camera, the kind with a wheel you had to move with your thumb after the previous picture or else you get a double exposer. It have been years since Oscar had seen one of these, he almost wondered if it was real. Despite his inner monologue telling him otherwise, he sigh and grabbed the camera, backing up far enough away to get everyone in the photo as the small family from Iowa got closer together. Oscar felt bad on two counts: one, the little girl in the husbands arms was completely squished under both of her parents excess of body fat; two, the building that appeared in the background, the one that they thought was the Empire State Building, was actually an apartment complex gutted last month in connection to a meth ring.

He snapped the picture, the artificial flash going off in spite of the beautiful sunny day that New York was experiencing. With a light grin, Oscar handed the camera back to the woman as her and her family pulled away from each other, surely saving the life of the small two year-old girl in the husbands arms. The woman looked so happy, an infectious grin appeared on her face as she looked up to Oscar. "God bless." She said before turning on her heel and walking away, her family shuffling along behind her.

Oscar did feel like an asshole, but how would they know? Unless they show the developed picture to a friend from New York, all of the buildings must look the same, and did from this angle. He wondered briefly if he could have just given them a picture of the Empire State Building, but shook his head, knowing better.

The speakers on either side of the stage started up, temporarily deafening him to the point of almost collapsing. He grabbed her ears, muffling the loud noise as Saturday in the Park by Chicago started on the speakers, the loud sixties music echoing over the entire park and drawing people closer to the stage in preparation for the announcement.

After about a twenty minute wait, fifteen minutes late for his own rally, Larry Finkle walked out on stage to the sound of thousands of people cheering. He smiled a chemically white smile at the people of New York, waving his burnt orange spray tan at the audience. His hair was perfectly groomed into a swoop that would make Superman jealous, his suit surely customized to the point where he handpicked the sheep. His young wife: short, blond, taut; something little teenage boys' dream about as she stood by her husband, giving him a knowing nod. The man had a perfect life as far as appearances go, which is why when he approached the podium and began to talk, Oscar had to try to holding in a bubbling laughter.

"Good afternoon, New Yorkers!" Finkle said. It sounded like he'd been kicked in the balls not two minutes earlier. Comically so, his voice was on the highest octave possible. Any higher and dog might have started to react. Oscar hand to put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud at the serious candidate.

"As some of you might have known." He said before clearing his throat. "There is talk at the House level that I might be running current senator, Lenny Clotch, of office this November. Now, you here in Manhattan know that I have always stood for the people. For the people, by the people."  
Someone in the back row shouted "Finkle for president!"  
He laughed away from the microphone. "Let's not get carried away here."

He earned a stiff laugh from the audience as Oscar began trying to snap photos for the paper, trying his hardest not to laugh every time he talked for fear of really shitty photos. He managed to almost drone out the high-pitched sounds of the speakers so he could focus on his job, getting the best possible photo. It was working well, haven taken almost five pictures of the man in powerful candid poses without giggling like a school girl.

Everything was going great until he heard gun shots.

Two shots, that's all it took to pull Oscar from his focus and back into reality as the people around began to react accordingly: by screaming and running for cover. Larry Finkle quickly dove to the ground, covering his head as if it was just another Saturday for him, his hot wife doing the same. Oscar was stuck in his ways, he couldn't move. Either from shock or fascination, he didn't know. All he knew is he kept taking photos, even as three masked individuals stormed the stage.

Three men in ski masks stormed the stage, pulling up themselves up to the podium as they stood over the panicked crowd. The two lesser of the criminals grabbed Finkle by his precious suit and pulled him to his feet, shouting obscenities at him if he didn't do exactly what he was told. The leader, the one pointing the small pistol at Finkle face, grabbed the microphone off the podium and began to speak into it.

"You are all witnesses." The leader began as several of the for mentioned screaming, running, panicking people stopped in their tracks, wanting to hear what this man had to say. Oscar's eyebrows knitted together as he listened, still snapping away with his camera. "You are all witnesses to the second coming of God. Where innocent blood will be spilt, a God most devious shall immerge." He had a gruff in his voice that made him sound like he was enjoying this, like he was thriving off of the chaos surrounding them. Oscar's blood went cold.

"Do not fear God, for he does not fear you. Only your own sins will haunt you. Today, in the year of false prophets and the adversary lies, we shall show you the truth. Do not fear change, for change will set you free – set us all free! And you will be witnesses to a new world._ The Brotherhood of Darkness_ does not want your pity, or sadness, or even your worship. All we want is your servitude."

"From then, you will open your eyes to a brighter world, a world without suffering except for the weak. A world without pain except for the corrupt. Our God and his Children are just. From this moment on, you shall no longer call upon your 'savior's for help. Instead, call upon, and prey to _Koza'Rai_, father of _Gozer the Gozerian_ and supreme ruler of the land."

The leader pulled the microphone around to the back of Finkle as he began to make bargains with the only God he'd ever known. The leader pressed the cold barrel of the gun to the back of the would-be senator's head before animalistic shouting into the microphone:

"BEHOLD!"  
Bang.

A gun shot was all it took to turn the beautiful day in Central Park into a crime scene. Everyone ran, including Oscar as his legs had finally decided to work. He ran farther into the park, clutching his camera and only his camera to his chest as he ran like a mad man. From the looks of things, no one else was hurt by the gun-toting psychos, but there were differently some things that roamed everyone's minds.

Oscar made his way back to his shit-box of a car, the keys fumbling in his shaking hands before opening the creaking down and sliding in on the hot leather seats. There, Oscar his first breath since the assassination. His camera still sat in his lap, burning a hole through his jean s almost as he realized what he had. He had a murder on tape. He had a man's last moments on earth in his camera. He had photos of the men who had done this.

Would they be the kind to kill over this? They've apparently killed for less. What would happen if someone were to know about the photos? He shuddered to think about what could happen, and only thought about what the scene was going to be like when he got home. He needed answers about these guys, about these 'Gozer' guys.

Oscar put the car in drive as he pulled out of the parking space, the song of the radio prophetically turning to one Oscar had grown to hate.

_If there's something strange in your neighborhood,  
Who you gonna call?_

* * *

One year ago today I published Apartment 22B, the beginning of my Ghostbusters series.  
I wanted to thank you all so much for all the support you've given me over the past year, so here is my giant thank you!  
Special shout out to StarofMirkwood for giving me the final push to write this. Don't worry, Egon will get a girl in this one ^-^.  
I hope I do you all justice.

~pure.


	2. Emmy

I do not own Ghostbusters, Ghostbusters II.  
I own Oscar Barrett, Emmy and Angie Stantz.

* * *

Oscar rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he pulled into the driveway, shutting off the car and mentally preparing himself for the shit storm he was about to combat. His mom would probably have stayed in the living room, waiting to hear how his day was at first. Then as the sun would set she'd grow angrier and angrier still until she turned into the She-Hulk and ripped everything apart limb by limb, starting with his stepfather. Or, she could be totally cool and not even care, but the likely hood of that happening was zero. On the passenger seat, Oscar grabbed a white bag of two-hour old tacos he'd gotten from a drive through and left the car, figuring it's now or never.

Slowly Oscar opened the door way, hoping that today wouldn't be the day when it would creak like a haunted house, as he barely sneaked his body through the door way. Finally he let go of the breath he'd been holding since the car as he closed the door, turning the knob before closing it to reduce the clicking noise it made as he entered the house. It was quiet and dark, not likely for the house at this hour. He turned to his wrist and pressed a little button on his watch, illuminating the numbers 9:32 PM in green light.

From his watch he moved down to his thick boots on his feet, carefully making sure not the fall in the process of taking off his shoes. Leaning against the hallway wall with only his elbow, Oscar grabbed the shoe laces around his ankles and began to pull wildly at any little string that stuck out in the dark, hoping one of the might 'pop' the shoe open. It had worked with the left one, the boot itself falling to the ground in a heap of echoed banging and silent curses. Surely his mother wouldn't be asleep already.

When the light turned on in the living room, he knew she wasn't asleep.

Dana Barrett sat on the couch in the living room, facing her son with extreme displeasure. With a worn out copy of an old book and a luke-warm cup of tea on the coffee table, she eyed him suspiciously from behind her reading glasses. Oscar tried to smile at his mouth, all the while hiding the white paper bag behind his back. Dealing with one problem at a time, he told himself as he waved to her like a child. "Hi mom."  
"Hello Oscar." She stated, without even a hint of emotion on his lips. He couldn't quiet tell if this was a good or bad thing. This late at night, he hoped it was a good thing. She put her book down, setting her reading glasses atop the hardback cover as she asked him "Where have you been?"

"I had an assignment in Central Park today."  
"Oh, I heard all about Central Park today." She said, standing up from where she was seated, her dark curls bouncing around her shoulders as she moved around the coffee table. "You don't call, you don't text, you don't answer you phone when I call you."  
"I didn't hear my phone its-" Oscar paused, mentally slapping himself in the face before he sighed. "It's in my backpack, at Central Park."

"You could have found a payphone? Asked to use someone's phone? Wrote a letter? Sent up smoke signals – anything to let your mother know that you were alright." She said, inching closer and closer to her boy. Now he could see the emotion, pure agony played across her features as the hard shell began to crack and the worrisome mother came out.

Oscar moved his arms around his mother's shoulders, standing a good foot over her, and calmly rubbed her back up and down as she sobbed into his t-shirt. He could feel her shaking beneath him as he just tried to comfort him the best way he knew how. "Shh. It's okay mom." He whispered over the loud sobbing into his chest. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" She asked, wiping away a few rouge tears and sniffing loudly. Oscar smiled and nodded his head.  
"I'm fine. I'm a little banged up from the crowds, but that's nothing."  
"Did you see anything? Anything that might be able to help the police?"  
"No, I didn't." He lied, biting his lower lip. "I was too far away."

"_BEHOLD!"  
Bang._

Oscar shuddered at the memory, feeling his muscles tease at just the memory of the event. He knew that something was going on outside of his understanding, and because of this someone was dead. How many others would die for this?

The front door opened up widely, almost hitting Dana and Oscar before Peter Venkman poked his head out from behind the wall. His wrinkled face looked out from behind the doorway to the group hug that was happening in the hallway and couldn't help himself. He stood up straight and walked in the room, slamming the door behind him getting the attention of the two basket cases.

"I come home from a long day's work and this is what I see; my own life in the arms of another man." He said with his hands on his hips, mostly to Dana at this point who just looked at him like he was crazy. Oscar just smiled. "So, how long has this been going on?"  
"Peter-"  
"I don't wanna hear it!" He cried, throwing his arms in the air. "I knew you've been cheating on me for years, but I at least thought it was with someone handsome. I mean if you want to get a boy toy, I'm sure we could get the neighbors pool cleaner, Pueblo-"  
"Pablo." Dana corrected, only adding fuel to the fire as Peter's eyes widened.  
"So, him too huh?" Peter asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "How many other men do you have? Huh?"  
"Peter." She called out with a hint of annoyance in her tone, warning Peter not to step any farther on the line. He smirked at her, winking his blue eye at her before was torn away from her son to her husband, giving him a peak on the lips.

Oscar smiled happily, though the Public Display of Affection was getting to him, he thought it was sweet that they still kind of liked each other after all these years. If only Oscar could one day be like them.

Dana pulled away from the kiss, turning around to saunter down the hallway to the kitchen, where a now stone-cold dinner waited for the two men in her life. Peter took of his coat at shoes at the door, placing them near Oscar's boots before he grabbed Oscar's upper arm.

"Good to see you, Oscar." Peter said in a serious tone. "How school? I bet those journalist babes are really taking a liking to you."  
"I think they just like me for their headshots." Oscar admitted, rubbing the back of his head. Peter scoffed it off.  
"Don't worry about them. Now music majors, those are the ones you've got to look out for. And don't even get me started on scientists-" Peter droned off.

Oscar had to ask him sometime tonight, to question was going to be burning in his skull if he didn't ask. There would be no way to sleep tonight if he didn't tell someone right now. Peter had grabbed him by the shoulders and began to walk down the hallway with him, talking about how literary majors are 'koala's or something stupid with Oscar stopped him just shy of the kitchen door. Oscar sighed heavily, gathering his thoughts up before saying them out loud, cutting Peter off mid-story.

"Pete." Oscar said, looking anywhere but at the man that had raised him. "I need to tell you about something, and you can't tell mom."  
Peter shook his head, not dreaming of telling his wife something.  
"Today, I was at Central Park during the rally."  
"I heard about that at work, are you okay?"  
"I'm fine. I was close enough to the stage; I could hear everything they said. They were talking about something coming, a God or something. I snapped a couple pictures and ran out of there as fast as I could. I couldn't even think, I just –"  
"Calm down. Breathe. In and out like I taught you." Peter joked, trying to lighten the mood from the dark path that they had strayed onto. Oscar didn't like talking about this, but needed to tell someone. His mother would over react and send him to a mental hospital or hop him up on pills. No, Peter needed to be the one to help him, he had never over reacted a day in his life.

"They were talking about something called the Dark Brotherhood, or the Brotherhood and Shadows – anyway, they were talking about the Sara'Lee or something like that, the father of geyser, gusher, Gozer, something like that."  
With the mention of the word Gozer, the color for Peter's face dropped the a sickly pale, his eyes widening in fright. It had been so long, Peter wasn't even sure he'd heard Oscar right. It was physical discomfort that filled his eyes, that made him lose his color, that made him quit blinking.

"Did you just say Gozer?"  
"Yeah, I think that's what they said."  
"Gozer the Gozerian, by any chance?"

Now it was Oscar's turn for his eyes to widen. Watching it all fall together the way it did was like watching dominos drop one into another into another. His eyes got wider with every second that clicked on the clock ebfore Oscar finally took a breath.

"How do you know that-?"  
"Oscar, just calm down-"  
"This is insane? Were you there-?"  
"Oscar, we will talk about this later, after diner. Your mom doesn't like it when I talk about this sort of thing, so it's on the hush hush – got it?"  
Oscar nodded his head like a child being scalded.

Dana poked her head out in his hall, the mechanical beeping of the microwave going off in the kitchen pulled the two from their conversation. Dana smiled at her two boys as she asked "What are you two talking about?"  
Without missing a beat, the two of them looked to Dana and with the most truthfulness they could muster they both said in unison: "Baseball."  
Dana watched in quizidly at the two of them, letting a beat or two pass before walking away from the doorway. "Okay then…" She said before disappearing back into the kitchen, giving the boys at least one private thing to themselves, even if she didn't buy the lie.

Peter turned back to Oscar, grabbing his shoulder tightly. "We'll talk after dinner. Remember, not a word to mom."

* * *

Emmy Stantz sat in the drive way of her parents' house, silently wishing she could turn around and head back to her comfy dorm in Illinois. She groaned heavily, leaning her head against the steering wheel of the 1998 Oldsmobile, letting the few loose strands of her dark curly hair fall in her face before her triumphant return to New Jersey. She loved her family, that was a given; but as most families, the Stantz family as the crazy one on the block.

Father, a scientist who had spent his years behind books and chasing ghosts now sitting at home enjoying his retirement while still trying to get his supernatural / romance manuscript published – and a mother, who had done everything to give little Emmy a normal childhood while still trying to find herself in the process.

Her father, the man that she loved more than any man in the world, was also the man that gave her to most headaches. When he wasn't talking in high technical terms that you needed a masters to understand, he was still fiddling with old equipment from the 'glory days', which was just another word that meant 'before kids'. She was bullied almost every day of her life for her father's involvement with the city of New York and their crack-pot business of catching and storing 'ghosts'. Not a day went by when Emmy wasn't bullied by some kid that didn't believe in ghosts, where she wasn't shoved into lockers, and when someone wouldn't shout the words "Who yah gonna call?" at her in passing.

She fell in love with her books, the seemingly only thing that she had in common with her parents. She could fall into a storybook in an instant and not come out until the final page was flipped and the cover clasped on itself. It helped her with the rough days of childhood; when she was bullied she thought about a handsome horse and rider coming to save her from the wicked children, when she was a teenager the scary stories of Stephen King gave her something to fear more than the lockers, in her young adult years she took a fancy to romance stories while seemingly bashing them.

When it was time for college, her father, the academic, wanted her to go off right away, to have the experiences he had while in university. She was scared, and despite all the reassuring talks that her father gave, she still waited a few years before going to college at the rip age of 19. She still didn't know what she wanted to do, having a love affair with books was nice but it wasn't anything to make a career off of. She decided to follow in her father's footsteps and become a scientist; he couldn't have been prouder.

Now she sat in the dark driveway of her parents lovely three-bedroom house on the outskirts of Somerton, New Jersey, debating whether or not to high-tail it back on the highway or to just grin and bear the uncomfortable conversations with her aging parents.

The front door opened, too late.

Angie Stantz stood outside on the porch, waiting for her pride and joy to walk through the door. Wrapping the green cotton robe tighter around her pleasantly plump figure, she smiled at the dark car, almost wanting to run up to the car and hug her while she still sat behind the wheel of the running car. Emmy would have killed her if she had done that, so Angie wanted until the ignition shut off and the driver's side door opened, the interior light lighting up the young woman's face. With a fake smile, Emmy waved at her mother from within the car, grabbing her small suitcase from the passenger seat before climbing out of the car with a groan, several joints popping under to new stress of standing.

She staggered towards the door, plagued with the sleep-deprived look of zombie towards the front porch, giving her mother a big hug.  
"Hi honey!" Her mother almost squealed, her arms wrapping around Emmy's neck as she pulled her closer into a hug. She smelled of Nag Champa and cigarette smoke, more likely from dad than mom. Her mother held her at arms length just to get a good look at her beautiful twenty two year old daughter. Emmy had to fight the urge to pull a silly face, or pose in an awkward fashion.  
"You look great, mom." She said, getting a quick glance of the Reed family smile before her just brushed it off.  
"I look old."  
"But it looks good on you. Wise and shit-stuff." Emmy tried to catch her tongue, wanting this summer to go by as smoothly as possible. Not so easy to do while you're a twenty two year old, grounded for cursing at your mother.  
She let it slide, thank God, and pulled her daughter in for a quick side hug as they both walked into the family house attached at the hip.

Not a whole lot had changed about the old house. The colors on the wall had gotten brighter, mom must have convinced dad to change the 80s' wallpaper before it completely peeled from the wall. The living room was just off the way from the main hallway, the half library that Emmy spent most of her time in. Seated in his favorite leather chair in front of the fireplace, no matter how many times her mother tried to get rid that damned Lay-Z Boy, her father sat down, reading over a book he had no doubt read a hundred time before. His dark hair had been thinning since the last time she'd seen him, aging quite a bit since last summer, but still the same person as far as she could tell from this angle.

Her mother coughed loudly, pulling her father from the interesting pages of the old book. "Ray, would you like to turn around and see you daughter?"

Spinning around in the chair, her father looked behind him, looking passed the glasses pulled low on the bridge of his nose. He smiled brightly before dog-ear marking his book and climbing out of the recliner to his daughter, who shared his geeky smile. He had gained some weight since the last time she'd seen him, Christmas seeming less like a few months ago and more like years. Quickly, Ray pulled her into a deep hug, hovering above crushing her to death.

Though the main component in her childhood bullies repertoire, she couldn't help but love her father, hugging him back with every ounce of strength she could at this time of night. He hadn't changed at all, book in his lap, glasses down on his nose, the smell of motor oil and burnt tobacco on his clothes; she felt at ease, at home.

Ray finally pulled away from her, getting a good look at the pretty daughter that he and his wife had created as he smiled. "You look beautiful, princess."  
"You don't look so bad yourself, dad." She said, playfully elbowing him in the ribs. He chuckled.  
"How is school going?"  
"It's going."  
"You wanna talk about it?"  
"Not before I get a couple more drinks in you." She jabbed, earning a laugh from her parents while she panicked on the inside. She didn't want to tell them about school if at all possible; she wanted to forget about school and focus on where she was. Live for the moment, carpe diem, and all that hippy crap.

Ray wrapped his arms over her shoulders as the three of them walked to the kitchen for a late-night dinner. Within minutes of walking through the door, her mother had already commented on how much weight she'd lost, and suddenly wanting to remedy that in one sitting.

Over a meal of left-overs, wine and a couple of Ray's cigarettes, she finally felt okay staying at her parents' house, given that they stay away from three subjects: School, job, and babies. But, within the next hour, they would have talked about all three while Emmy sucked down another glass of red wine, hoping for nothing more than the night to be over.

* * *

Oscar and Peter sat out of the back porch, the black tar smoke bellowing out over the cloudless night's sky. While Dana had gone to bed, the boys had stayed up past their usual time as both Oscar and Peter yawned wildly. Peter puffed on the filter of the cherry-headed cigarette before blowing the smoke high overhead, not wanting to smoke Oscar out while he pondered the nights earlier talk.

Oscar gnawed on his finger nails and the skin around them, doing anything to keep his hands and mouth busy as he dived deeper into his thoughts. In the hour or less it seemed of Peter coming home, Oscar was faced with new information over his little curiosity earlier in the day. With new things to consider, he had to mull it over in his mind over and over and over again, not exactly the brightest tool in the shed.

"Whoa." Oscar breathed, his pupils not yet dilating over the news. Peter blew a cloud of smoke overhead.  
"Yep."  
"So, Gozer was here before?"  
"Yes he was."  
"And you and your friends fought him off?"  
"Well, vaporized him after he turned into a marshmallow."

Oscar's eyes widened, making mental note to ask of that story later. Still with his thumbnail at the edge of his lips, Oscar continued to try and understand what was going on.

"Okay. So you vaporized him and now some people are trying to bring him back?"  
"Yep."  
"Why?"

Peter sighed heavily, extinguishing the bright flame in the overflowing ashtray. Oscar knew that it was late and Peter needed to go to bed, but first he needed to tell this story, if for nothing else than a set piece of mind for Oscar.  
"Some people just want the world to burn. They want a super power, a macho guy in their corner – even if it means unleashing a Sumerian God onto New York again."  
"Oh."  
"Look at it this way. Remember all the 2012, Mayan Apocalypse stuff that was going around not too long ago?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Well, a lot of people were looking forward to it, even though it was the 'end of the world'. Why would they welcome an idea like that into their heads when it would mean death and destruction? Even though they probably wouldn't even make it in a zombie apocalypse, they still wanted it to happen. And when nothing happened, poof! Everybody and their brother with a crazy bunker in the basement was gone, no longer with a platform to stand on."  
"So you think they just want attention, or to actually bring on the end of the world.?"

Peter sighed heavily, running his rough hands over his tired and wrinkled features.  
"I think that these people, the ones that held Finkle at gun point, are sick. They just want a platform to scream crazy theories into the world, hoping it stirs the pot a bit. I don't know, Ray and Egon where always better at that stuff."  
"What stuff?"  
"Mental illness." Peter said, leaning back in his creaking chair. "If there was anyone to talk to about mental illness, it was those two. Though you might just get a lecher in the middle of the story."

Ray and Egon where the men that he'd worked with in the past, the ones that defeated Gozer in the beginning. If they did it once, couldn't they have done it again? If these people were for real and were actually planning on bringing Gozer back to life, it would be nice to know that someone could stop it.

"Where are Ray and Egon now?" Oscar asked, trying to be as conspicuous as possible.  
"I think Ray's in New Jersey with his wife and kid. Egon's probably still at the college."  
"Do you know how I could get in touch with them?"

Peter eyed Oscar suspiciously. The plan to stay secretive was on the fritz and he needed to plan it cool, without Peter getting wind of Oscar's inner, diabolical plan. "Why are you so interested in them all of a sudden? You gonna call Ray out of the blue and have him help you with a séance?"  
Oscar just laughed, harder than he should have if he wanted to stay under Peter's radar.

"No! not at all! I just… Adding to conversation." Oscar added as he stood up from the patio chair. "I just thought you'd like to talk about the old days with your friends, fighting demons and what have you." Oscar was blowing it, he could tell from the ever growing smirk on Peter's face with every word that he said.  
Clearing his throat quickly, Oscar yawned immediately after, raising his arms high over his head for effect.  
"Well, it's getting late. I think I'll head off to bed." He said, quickly moving towards the sliding glass door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Pete."

"Goodnight, Oscar." Peter said as Oscar closed the door behind him. Leaving Peter on the back patio might not have been the best idea Oscar had planned as he looked behind him, watching the orange flicker of a cigarette lighter lighting up another cancer stick.

He felt bad, but for, like, a minute before his mind focused on the plan he had in his head. Quickly moving for the front door, Oscar began to pat down Peter's coat as it hung in the hallway, looking for anything hard in his pockets. He had done it all the time when he was kid, looking for keys, money, some extra smokes, but nothing of this caliber.

Finally, his fingertips traced upon the outline of a small bulge in the polyester jacket. Small, rounded and fat like a flask, Oscar dived his hand into the pocket and pulled out the ancient Nokia phone that Peter had insisted on buying over fifteen year earlier, never upgrading in the years since. Oscar's finger tips skillfully bounced along the buttons, praying that a man that hadn't changed his phone plan in fifteen years might just have a couple phone numbers from over twenty years ago.

Filing them in alphabetical order, Oscar typed in 'R' and began to look from the numerous other 'R's in his contacts list before coming across a listing, a one 'Raymond Stantz'. Oscar grabbed his phone from his pocket, a newer, sleeker, cleaner version of the dinosaur that Peter carried around, and punched the phone number into the internet search, giving the information over to the internet to do all the stalking for him. What else do you use the internet for?

After connecting to the neighbor's wifi and taking for – fucking – ever, it finally came up with an address in New Jersey, the home of Raymond and Angela Stantz. It had to be them. There wasn't another Stantz in the entire state of New Jersey – it had to be him. Now came the real challenge, to wait until the morning or drive the hour into New Jersey.

Without a second thought, Oscar grabbed his car keys and hopped in the car, hoping that his newer phone's GPS would lead him the quickest way to New Jersey, to awake a man he had never met and to ask his help for something he'd never dreamed of asking another human being.

_How do you fight a God?_

* * *

So now you've met little Emmy Stantz.  
I hope you're enjoying it so far.

~pure.


	3. Meet the Stantzs

I do not own Ghostbusters, Ghostbusters II or any other reference I have made here today.  
I own Kitty Reed, Angie Reed-Stantz, and Emmy Stantz.

* * *

Driving through the night with nothing more than a bag of Cheetos, his second can of Red Bull, and the heavy music of the band Möterhead playing over the crappy sound system in the car, Oscar had finally made it into New Jersey when he began to rethink his little adventure to the murder capital. Waiting until darkness fell over the horizon wasn't his best idea, nor was the plan of showing up unannounced to a man that he'd never met's house in the middle of the night. From the stories Peter had told him as a kid, Ray sounded like a standup guy, curious about all things paranormal – hopefully Oscar's story of Gozer would entice him long enough not to slam the door in his face.

The GPS on his phone told him to turn down into a small subdivision, the idea of normality and vanilla as far as Oscar was concerned, and followed the British woman's orders as she told him where to go. Butterflies entered his stomach for the first time as he drove in front of the house, parking his car on the curb. He looked at the two-story Tudor house longer than he'd like to admit, judging from the sidewalk whether or not it would be worth waking anyone up. The yellow hue from the living room lamp gave away the delicate shadows of bodies moving around in the room, telling him that someone was awake at this ungodly hour.

He turned off the car and slipped out, making mental note to lock the door in the quiet neighborhood. It was just a subdivision, but it was also Jersey, Oscar wanted to be safe.

He walked along the driveway, making sure not to step on the grass or the bright yellow flowers that lined the driveway as he made his way up to the front porch. The butterflies had grown to twice the size they were earlier, and he felt like he was going to throw up. Pausing on the porch, Oscar asked himself once again if this was going to be worth it in the end. Did he really need answers? Was Ray Stantz going to be the one to answer?

_"BEHOLD!"_

Yes. Yes he was.

Oscar took in a deep breath of air before pushing the small button next to the door, the jingle ringing out through the house as his stomach fell to the floor. He felt woozy, but only for a moment before the door opened up to a beautiful sight before him.

A young woman stared at him, wild eyed and ready to strike it seemed as she looked passed the screened storm door. Her curly brown hair was pulled up to a messy ponytail behind her head as she watched Oscar with a fiery curiosity. His words stopped, halting right on the tip of his tongue if for only a moment he'd forgotten why he was there.

"Can I help you?" She asked, crossing her pale arms over her black t-shirt. Oscar swallowed heavily, trying to find the words to talk before he hoarsely asked "Does Raymond Stantz live here?"  
She nodded suspiciously, eying him up and down.  
"Who is asking?"  
"My name is Oscar Barrett, I was hoping to talk with him for a moment about some things."  
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" She asked, now she just seemed simply annoyed by him even showing up. He was stumped on the exact time, but it couldn't have been too long past midnight. He grinned sadly, knowing the he must be asleep and that he'd just ruined their night, but he had to try.

"I know, I'm sorry for how late it is, but I have to talk to him."  
"Who is it?" A man called from behind the doorway, the heavy black door blocking out his view of the man he'd hoped would be able to help him. He watched her sigh heavily, pulling to door back enough so that Oscar could get a good look at the man he'd only heard stories about. Ray walked closer to the door, eyeing the boy like his daughter had earlier as he asked "What can I do for you?"

"Hi. My name is Oscar Barrett, I know Peter Venkman and I was hoping I could talk to you—"  
"Oscar? Dana Barrett's son?" He interrupted, the gears in his head working in reverse as the past had come back to haunt him, so to speak. Oscar nodded, smiling at the recognition of his mother. He knew that they had known each other for years, but was foggy on the details of their relationship.  
"Boy, last time I saw you, you were just a little tike barely able to walk." Ray mused, a grin showing up on his wrinkled face. Ray moved quickly, opening the screen door back and welcoming Oscar into his home with open arms.

"Come on in!" Ray ushered, waving the young man in. The daughter took a step back from the door as Ray introduced them. "Oscar, this is my daughter Emmy. Emmy, you remember Oscar, don't you?"  
Emmy shook her head as she moved a piece of curly hair behind her ear.  
"You two used to play together all the time when we lived in Manhattan." Ray said. "You two were inseparable."

Oscar took Emmy's hand, shaking it a few times as he felt sparks rush through his fingers. 'This can't be good' he thought before pulling his hand away at the sound of another voice entering the room.  
"Is that Oscar Barrett?" A woman said from the hallway, her hands defiantly resting on her hips. She looked like an older version of the woman standing next to him, same curly hair, same brown eyes, and same pale skin. It was uncanny.

The older woman moved closer to the door before wrapping her arms around Oscar's neck, taking him by surprise. "It's been so long!" She gushed into his shirt. She smiled up at him brightly, her eyes twinkling with memories from years ago. "That's my wife, Angie." Ray said, pointing to the woman currently wrapped around a young man. Oscar bit in inside of his cheek before he pulled away, looking him over with a little more kindness then the other two did initially.

"Well, come on in." She said, grabbing his hand and pulling him deeper into the house. "We've got a lot to talk about – are you hungry?"  
"Uh, not really, thank you. I ate before I came over." Oscar admitted, looking back to Ray and Emmy for some sort of help from the over-courteous hostess. Emmy grinned wildly at the sight, walking close behind as Angie pulled him into the small kitchen in the middle of the house.

The white kitchen had been used, frequently. Small scuffs on the white linoleum, a few dirty dishes on the kitchen island while the overhead florescent light flickered. Angie pulled him to a wooden barstool, one of four pair that sat around the kitchen island before she began to clear away from dirty plates and organize the numerous papers and letter that littered the white tile. Oscar sat down, slightly uncomfortable with the fuss she was making before Ray and Emmy walked through the doorway. Emmy took a set on the opposite side of the island, deflating Oscar's little heart when she didn't sit next to him. She linked her fingers together, silently watching Oscar to make a wrong move or do something stupid. It seemed that when someone watched him, he was more likely to make a stupid move than when no one was watching at all – so, that helped.

Ray grabbed his wife, telling her that he didn't come to look at the house, and sat her down at the table. She nervously mashed her lips together before apologizing for the state of chaos that was her house. "No, it's fine." Oscar said, looking around the kitchen. "It's actually a lot cleaner than mine."

Ray took the seat on the other side of him; the seat that Oscar had initially dubbed Emmy's, but that thought quickly vanished when Angie started with the pleasantries. Crossing her arms over the island, Angie put on a bright smile as she started. "So how are your parents doing?"  
"Mom's doing well. She got a job at the local school teaching music."  
"That's good."  
"Yeah. She's been working pretty hard. She told me that they were running her like crazy."  
"But she'd got a nice comfy job now, so that has to be nice." Angie said, purposely avoiding Ray's eyes. "How about your father? How is Venkman doing?"  
"He uh... hehe…" Oscar laughed, rubbing the quickly growing stubble on his chin. "He's working at a local radio talk show, where they talk about ghosts and UFO's, Bigfoot, stuff like that." Oscar said, watching Ray's eyes light at the hint of ghosts. He could see that he missed it, or at least talking about it, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea for him to show up.

"That's actually why I'm here." Oscar said, clearing his throat of any nervousness that might had shown up. "I'm gonna guess that you heard the news today, in Central Park."  
Angie and Ray both looked solemn at the tile as Ray nodded his head. "Yes. Terrible, just terrible."

"Well, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about." Oscar started, placing his hands in his lap as he got Ray's full attention. "I was close to the stage when it happened. Two yards or so when the gun went off."  
"Good lord." Angie said, breathlessly.  
"When they charged the stage, they began to talk about something of a second coming of a God. That we would all be witnesses to the second coming of Piza-Ray, or something like that, the father of Gozer."  
Ray's eyes widened, matching his wife's expression.  
"Oh good God." Angie said before making the cross over her body, a habit of years at Catholic school. Oscar and Emmy's head both turned back and forth from the two, watching and waiting for them both to say something, to fill them in on the meaning of the word 'Gozer'.

"I thought you boys got rid of that mess." Angie whispered harshly at Ray as he threw his hands over his head. "I thought we did too! We vaporized him, crossed the streams; nothing could have survived that, even a Sumerian God."  
"Then why would they be talking about Gozer now? What good would it be bringing up a subject like that?"

Ray looked over to Oscar, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Father of, right? Father of Gozer?"  
"Yeah, that's what they said-" Oscar said before Ray jumped up from his barstool and left the kitchen quickly, his thoughts somewhere else at the moment as he wondered in silence. Emmy had a look of confusion, though, Oscar bet, it wasn't the first time that had happened in this house.

Ray returned, toting a hardback book in his grasp as his flipped through the pages. Muttering to himself, he repeated the words "father of Gozer" over and over until he had apparently found the page he was looking for. He ran his finger tip down the page, keeping track of where he was reading as he apparently found the line he was looking for.  
"In Sumerian legend, the father of Gozer is Koza'Rai-"  
"That's it! That's what they said!" Oscar bounced on the stool as Ray kept reading.

"Interdimensional demon warlord and father of Gozer, Senta, and other lesser Gods, Koza'Rai was devoted to the conquest of time and space. In the 1950's the Temple of the Divine Father, a splinter sect of the Cult of Gozer, gained popularity with the rising spiritualist movement and gained over a million followers in the first five years.  
Several villages in Africa are devoted to the practice of Kimungu Baba, 'Divine Father' in Swahili. Witch doctors use this magic in healing the sick, while other more devious plots have been reported.

In North America, the cults and religions of Gozer and his father were wide spread. With the Temple of the Divine Father, they are also Divinium Patris, a witch coven that spans America and parts of Canada, and the political group Brotherhood of Darkness. On the FBI list of terrorist organizations, the Brotherhood of Darkness believe that the Divine Father will awaken and bring forth a hell on earth. They have been linked with covert operations and numerous assassination attempts over the globe. "

"Jesus." Emmy breathed, taking a slip from her glass of water on the counter. Oscar nodded, silently agreeing with the exasperated statement as Ray continued to quietly read through the book until a passage or line peaked interest.

Oscar could still hear the shots in his head, ringing in his ears.

Ray sat the book down on the island with a huff, finding nothing else of interest in the book. Running his hand through his thinning hair, Ray stayed silent with the others, mulling over the new information in his head.

"Is there any way for this Koza' – whatever – to cross into our dimension?" Oscar said, exhausted from the day's events. His body wanted sleep, but his mind wanted answers.  
Ray shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it's possible. If he is the God of interdimensional travel, then it's entirely possible, but not probable."  
"Why?"  
"For a God of that size he would need a portal, a bridge, anything to get through to this dimension. Cross rips, while not uncommon, are extremely hard to manifest and generate. One God sized cross rip would be monumental. Bigger than the Empire State Building!" Ray said, getting carried away as the girls in the room began to get nervous about the idea, both of them squirming in their seats.

Ray cleared his throat.  
"I doubt that anybody could generate that much power though. A severe interdimensional cross rip between parallel realities is about as close to impossible as it comes."

Oscar bit at his thumb nail again, a perfect aid for the nervousness he felt in his stomach as the butterflies had grown even more since the opening of the door. Angie got up from the table for a glass of water when Ray leaned in close to Oscar, whispering low enough for Angie not to hear. "I'll do some more research on your Koza'Rai fellow. I think they're still might be some files at the firehouse, I'll go in the morning."

From the facet, Angie stiffed a laugh. "You are not going back to the firehouse."  
"Why not?"  
"Because, every time you go back to that building violation you find something to toy with a fix and play with. You spend days at that place and never get anything done. If you're gonna go, then take someone with you – someone with a watch."  
Ray laughed under his breath at his wife's paranoia, though not completely over reacting to the idea either. Emmy scrunched her face in confusion as she looked to her dad. "That old firehouse, Hook and Ladder number eight?"  
Ray nodded.

"Yeah, I've got some work I need to do there anyway."  
"Oh no you don't. This is exactly was I'm talking about, you always find something-"

Oscar couldn't tell, but he was almost sure that Emmy did that on purpose, giving him the name of the firehouse. If it was a coincidence then good, but it felt deliberate. Was she actually helping him? If he didn't know any better, he would have thought she just winked at him.

It was getting later, as the analog clock in the corner began to swirl around the numbers he had only seen in the daytime. He excused himself, trying his hardest not to get in-between the light shouting match that Angie and Ray had while discussing the firehouse. Emmy and Oscar both got up from the table, excusing themselves from the room as she began to walk him back towards the door. Angie and Ray paused their little spat long enough for Angie to give Oscar a big hug while Ray simply shook his hand, mentioning how good it was to see him again.

Emmy and Oscar moved from the kitchen and down the hallway as the heated argument over the firehouse continued. Oscar shoved his hands deep in his pockets, "I really hope I didn't cause that."  
"Oh you totally did." Emmy tried to 'reassure' him, laughing briefly before looking down at her feet.  
"Well, I didn't mean it." He tried to defend, but Emmy just blew him off.

"They fight about this ever couple months when money's a little too tight. Mom wants to sell it, dad doesn't want to, and it blows up from there." Emmy said, adding both a visual key and sound effects to an imaginary explosion.

They both reached the door, Emmy opening the black heavy door once more as Oscar moved out on the porch, the moths starting to dance around the yellow porch light. Emmy smiled for the first time that night, giving Oscar a reason to smile.

"Did you get the address?" Emmy asked, crossing her arms over her chest to fight the cold summer's night. Oscar smiled, nodding his head "Hook and Ladder number eight, got it."  
"In Manhattan, a little hellhole of a neighborhood. It'll look like an old haunted house when you pull up."  
"Thanks."  
"Not a problem."

Emmy smiled as Oscar began to walk away, stumbling over his own feet a little bit as he sauntered out into the yard. With a wave goodbye, the two separated from each other, going their own ways. Oscar climbed back into the car and turned on the ignition quickly, trying his best to heat up the car for the hour long ride back to New York with a new plan. Emmy had helped in more ways than one and he could never thank her enough. As he pulled away from the curb, he hoped that he'd see her again sometime. Maybe next time they'd meet, he'd be brave enough to ask her out for coffee, or to stop a cult of nut-jobs from summoning an interdimensional warlord, or mini-golf, whatever.

He pulled up to the stop sign as he was leaving the subdivision, grabbing his phone and typing in directions from Somerton, New Jersey to 14 North Moore Street in Manhattan, the famous Hook and Ladder #8.

* * *

Now Emmy and Oscar know each other. Yay!  
What is Oscar gonna find when he heads to the firehouse?

I hope you guys are enjoying it so far. Sorry for the late update.

~pure.


	4. Gozer and Twinkies

I do not own Ghostbusters, or Ghostbusters 2. Rights belong to Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis.  
I own Emmy and Angie Stantz, and Kitty Reed.

* * *

Hook and Ladder #8 was in the wrong spot in the city. Just down the street from where the Sharks and Jets had their final standoff, it was a demilitarized zone, and a complete surprise when Oscar found that it hadn't been demolished yet. The rest of the neighborhood had, making way for the high-rises and luxury condos, but the firehouse stood the test of time. Warehouse styled windows busted out from snot nose kids' being 'edgy', the brick foundation was cracking under the weight of the building, and graffiti on the side of the building that faced Varick street with the brightly-colored, all be it crude, words "Ghostbusters suck dick!", "Go fuck yourselves with a proton pack" and Oscar's favorite among the rouge language: "God bless!"

Oscar parked down the road from the abandoned firehouse, making the conscience effort to park somewhere safe for his old beamer, as he walked down the dark street with his hands tucked neatly in his jean pockets. Looking around, he noted the shady characters on every street, from the fifty year old man in a trench coat showing some leg, to the two hoodlums 'secretly' selling dope, to the skeletor woman on the corner in flashy clothes and heavy makeup that looked like it was put on with a jackhammer.

Oscar didn't look like the cleanest person either. His black t-shirt hanging around his thin body, his chin covered in a yesterday's five o clock shadow, his eyes darting around to watch who was watching him. No appearances on Sesame Street for him.

Moving around to the front entrance, Oscar felt like he was about to enter the Wonka factory for the first time. Hearing the stories as a kid, he almost didn't believe that this place actually existed, much less that he would be breaking into it. There was a door on the side that Oscar moved to quickly, looking over his shoulder at the people around him before making his move to break into Hook and Ladder #8. He had never broken into a building before, only seeing it done on TV before by large men in uniform.

Which is why when Oscar went for the kicking-the-door-in trick, he quickly heard the unflattering noise of his leg bending backwards.

Falling to the ground and writhing in pain, he quickly dispersed every curse word he had ever thought of, even some words he was sure didn't exist. The people hanging around the street began to laugh at his pain from affair, knowing better than to interact with a dumbass trying to break down a metal door with his foot.

He felt his knee throb in the darkness before he climbed back up to his feet, resting on the other leg as he thought up another brilliant strategy into getting into the firehouse. Above the red metal door was a large window, the corner broken out from the random street rat. It was easily five feet over his head, not even the best timed jump with the best leg could be him up and through that window.

The wheels in his head began to turn at the sight of an opening, blood rushing from his throbbing knee to his brain as he looked for anything to boost him up and help him climb through. Looking down Varick street, he sighed at the sight of only a single metal trash can near the stop light. This was New York, right? Trash is everywhere except on this street, which for some reason was kept immaculate.

Oscar hobbled over to the base of the street light and grabbed the trash can, dragging it along as it scraped loudly on the concrete walk way, a look of annoyance riddled Oscar's face. At this point in the night, he didn't really care too much at the noise, finding it just another side effect of the insanity he was experiencing. What person in their right mind goes to an abandoned firehouse in the early morning hours and breaks in after fucking up his own leg? A crazy person.

Oscar positioned the trash can in front of the red door of the firehouse and flipped it over quickly; pouring the trash onto the side walk at his inner voice told him he'd clean up later. It rattled on the ground as he positioned it right where he wanted it. The trash can only came up to about hip level; he'd have to make up that extra two feet or so somehow.

Nurturing in bum knee, he climbed atop the metal trash can, balancing as best as he could as he reached high over his head at the busted window. His fingertips traced around the window ledge, broken glass shuffling around as he tried to get the best grip on the window before making a really, really stupid decision.

"Hey, boy!" Someone shouted at him. In a compromising situation, Oscar turned around, his arms still high over head as he tried to smile. An old woman pushing around an empty cart was stopped in the middle of the one-way road, watching from a distance as Oscar tried to break into the building.  
"You know who own dat building?"  
"Uhh… ghostbusters?"  
"Uh-hu!" She smiled a toothless grin. "Why are you trying to get into there? Got a ghost problem?"  
"Something like that." He mused to himself before turning to the woman pushing the cart. "I lost my keys."

"Oh!" She said quickly, jumping a little bit and buying his lie. "Well, I'll keep an eye out for dem den." Oscar nodded in appreciation as the old woman continued to talk to herself, pushing her cart down the street in front of her.

Oscar quickly got back to work, working on the window ledge as he carefully stuck his hand through the broken window. Once clear of the sharp debris, he began to grope around inside, looking for anything that might resemble a latch. Moving around inside, he felt the cold brass latch hit his fingers as he wrapped them around and pulled at the latch, unlocking the window. Smiling wide, he moved his hand outside of the broken pane of glass and lifted the window above his head with a grunt or two.

The window was open, but he still needed to get into the damn building. With his knee thoroughly fucked, he knew he couldn't jump through and land on his feet like James Bond, but he had to try. If for no other reason than to tell the story of how he fucked up his leg by breaking into Ghostbusters HQ, he was going to try.

He grabbed onto the cement ledge, getting a good grip of his surroundings before jumping with his good leg against the trash can, giving him a chance to be airborne before his feet fell back down on the lid of the trash can in attempt number one.

Attempt number two Oscar grunted heavily as he jumped up once more, pulling himself up with his grip around the window ledge slipping. He heard a rattle below him as he silently cursed at himself. Looking back, his worst nightmare had come true, the trash can had fallen over, leaving him dangling on the ledge like an idiot.

He kicked his feet rapidly, pushing against the brick wall on the outside while trying to pull his scrawy butt through the opened window. It was then that his old P.E. coach popped into his head making fun of him for getting so winded, the girls that rejected him in high school because he wasn't built like the others, wearing a t-shirt at the pool last summer – so many opportunities to get stronger and it takes dangling outside of the a firehouse window for him to get it through his head. With a well-timed kick to the brick outside and a flex of certain arm muscles; Oscar began to lift himself up the wall and through the open window, into the firehouse.

If only he'd looked down.

Oscar fell through the window, landing on numerous boxes of papers and files that blocked the exit with an oomph! Lying on his back, he groaned in the darkness, looking up and the dramatically high ceilings. Now everything hurt, his knee, his back, his ego – everything! It was a miracle if he could even walk after that. He could see it now, people sending out search parties, his parents talking on the news, his mother crying hysterically. "Idiot Boy Missing – Nobody Cares!" CNN, eat your heart out.

But he could move, he thought as he rolled over on his stomach and down several more crumbled boxes of papers. He crawled down the mountainous pile of boxes until his hands hit smooth, cold pavement. He smiled to himself, laughing a little bit in the echoic room as he rested his tired body on the cold cement below him.

He made it, ha! He fucking made it. He actually made it through the window. Take that, girls in high school! Now was the hard part, he actually had to go through the boxes and files and find something on the Brotherhood and what they were planning that Ray hadn't told him earlier. He knew that Ray said he'd be down in the morning, so sun rise was his cue to get the hell out of there, or be caught by the man himself.

He moved to his feet, hobbling along as his hands reached out in the darkness, looking for anything resembling a light switch on the wall. There had to be something and never mind the idea that the power was shut off. From the argument that Angie and Ray had earlier, Ray wasn't going to let anything happen to his firehouse.

The lights turned on above, the fluorescent lights popping up above, but Oscar didn't touch the light switch. Looking around, like a deer caught in the headlights, Oscar's neck craned around to the massive staircase that lined the left side of the building, the young woman that gave him the stink eye earlier in a repeat performance on a different stage.

Emmy's arms where crossed over her chest as she smirked down at him, shaking her head silently as she laughed to herself. "What the hell are you doing here?" She said, her shoes clopped along the staircase as she descended, Oscar wide eyed and still in shock.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here? How did you get here?" Oscar said, shaking himself from his stupor as Emmy pulled a key ring from her back pocket, the brass keys jiggling in her hand.

"I had a key."  
"Goddamn it – there was a key?!"  
"Did you enjoy your little fall there, Charlie Bronson?" She asked laughingly as she walked over to the mountainous pile of boxes. Oscar scratched his head briefly.  
"How did you know about that?"  
"You honestly think you can kick a metal door with a boot and it won't make a noise?" She asked, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "I stuck my head out of the window and watched from upstairs."  
"Glad I could put on a show for you. But you didn't answer my question, why are you here?"

Emmy smirked from behind a veil of curly locks, trying her hardest to contain the strains of hair by moving her hand through the tangled mess. The answer almost amused her as she bit her bottom lip. "Because I was curious." She confessed, looking a bit embarrassed by the idea. "I wanted to see for myself what you were talking about."  
"Your dad said he'd come in the morning."  
"I couldn't wait that long. I knew you couldn't either."  
"Oh? And how did you know?" Oscar teased, puffing up his chest.

Emmy strutted closer to him, her legs crossing over the other one. Oscar almost didn't want to look away from the sight, his eyes glued to her swaying hips before she walked up to him. She was easily six inches shorter than him, making her look up at him as she hovered inches away from his chest.  
Now who was being a tease?

"Because you showed up at my door at twelve o'clock at night instead some simply waiting until the sun came up."  
"That's nothing. You should see me wait in line at a movie theater." Oscar smirked, the same knowing smirk he'd learned from his step-father over the years.

She moved away, the heat from her body leaving his quickly as she headed for the staircase in a hearty jog. He was left dumbfounded once again as he watched her bounce up the first few stairs to the landing.

"Where are you going?" He asked, his voice echoing off the walls before she turned around. With a goofy smile on her face she pointed her index finger up. "Upstairs. All of the case files are up there."  
"And the papers down here?" He asked, pointing to the large volume of papers behind them that served quiet well as a landing pad. She shook her head. "Those are invoices from nineteen eighty four. I don't think you're gonna find much on an ancient Sumerian overlord." She said before climbing the rest of the staircase, disappearing from view.

This woman was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.

Oscar quickly joined Emmy upstairs, setting the massive amount of boxes around them in a half circle as they went through page by page, file by file, box by box of reports over the years, from 1984 to 1986 and then again from 1989 to 1993, looking for anything that might reference Gozer's father. Besides finding evidence of the childhood story of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man that Peter had told him about, there wasn't a whole lot on Gozer in general. Some on a Vigo character, a little on Gozer, but the reports read like a teenage girl's diary. It was a miracle that anyone could read this.

Emmy had grabbed a thick stack of books from the lone book shelf and began to go through them, looking for anything that might have peaked some interest. She rested against a box of files that they had already gone through, the heavy book resting nicely in her lap as she flipped through the pages.

Oscar should have been focusing on the boring case files, but couldn't help take in a bit of the beauty before him. He was a love sick puppy, and he knew it, if at no other time in his life when she looked over at him, catching him staring at her. Her dark eyes narrowed at him as she smirked. "What?"  
"Nothing… Just… Nothing…" Oscar said, quickly burying his head in the case files as the early morning sounds of traffic began outside.

Oscar sighed heavily, lifting his head and slamming the case file closed, getting Emmy's attention. "What now?"  
"I just… I can't look at these pages anymore. I can't. It's driving me insane!" He shouted, falling backwards as he rested his head on the wooden floor boards, rubbing his eyes in annoyance.

She shook her head, turning the page as she said "You just need some patience."  
"I have patience! It's just wearing thin as hell!" He groaned, hoping that the tingling in his eyes meant he could take a break and do something. Oscar looked over to the corner, the analog clock stuck on five thirty five when he lifted he head to look at Emmy, still not tearing her eyes away from the book.

"What time is it?"  
"Uhh… three thirty, almost four."  
"That's it! I'm getting some food." Oscar said as he pushed himself from the floor and on his feet. He was drawn to the kitchen like a moth to the flame as he looked through the small kitchenettes cabinets, looking for anything to subdue his hunger.

"Are you kidding?" Emmy said, finally tearing herself away from the book as the dog-eared the page she was on and turned to face Oscar, who was on the hunt for something to eat. "No one has been in here for years. Anything you find is gonna be old, moldy and nasty."  
He acted as if he didn't hear her, causing her to huff and turn back to her book. "Fine. Get food poisoning. See if I care."

Oscar opened the last cabinet in the kitchenette, his eyes growing to gigantic proportions at the light blue box hiding away in the corner.  
"Emmy, you said you dad comes here to work sometimes, right?" Oscar asked as he reached in for the little box of heaven, shooing away the cobwebs that plagued it.

"Yeah, or sometimes when mom is on his case he'll just show up and work on things. Why?" Emmy asked, finally turning back around to see Oscar with a light blue box in his hand and a look on his face as if he'd found God. Light blue rectangle with a little cartoon phallic image in the corner with a cowboy hat and lasso, the famous light golden cake in the center with the fluffy sweet clouds of goodness pouring from the middle.

"Are those Twinkies?" Emmy asked breathlessly, her eyes quickly matching Oscars as he nodded his head. Slowly, as if holding a sacred object, he moved over to the little camp grounds they had set up in the middle of the room, lowering himself down the floor next to Emmy as they both looked on in astonishment. It had been about six months since either of them had heard from Hostess, and at least a year since either had had a Twinkie.

Oscar popped open the box, and tipped it up, letting one lone Twinkie fall into his lap. The two of them shared a look of excitement as Oscar disposed of the box behind his head and began to attack the stubborn wrapper around the golden delicious-ness.

"Twinkies don't go bad, right?" Oscar said through the cellophane in his teeth as Emmy nodded, agreeing with the statement. "They're supposed to have a shelf life of, like, fifteen years or something."

Oscar fumbled with the wrapping until it finally popped open, exposing the sweet cake to the stale New York air. Oscar grabbed the Twinkie and ripped it in half, sharing his discovery with the woman helping him in the earlier morning hours.

"To discovery!" Oscar said, raising the half a Twinkie high above his head. Emmy smile and followed suit, knocking the cake product into his in a mock-toast. "To finding the truth."

"Bottoms up!" Oscar said before devouring the sweet cake, making sure not to eat the plastic wrap.

Only, the sweet cake and lard filling that he'd grown to love over his childhood wasn't sweet, it had turned rancid and only grew in its vulgar taste the longer Oscar had it in his mouth. Not daring to take another bite, he looked over to Emmy, whose expression matched his of complete disgust before they both spit it out into their respective hands, coughing and gagging at the after taste.

"What the hell was that?!" Emmy growled, wiping her tongue with her hand. Oscar shook his head, "I don't know! I thought they were supposed to last a hundred years or shit..!"  
"Obviously not. They're made from chemicals not magic!"  
"Sorry for being optimistic!" Oscar shouted, taking the blue box and shoving the plastic wrap and the putrid snack cake down deep into the box before handing it over to Emmy to do the same.

She followed suit, wrapping her chewed, moldy snack cake in the plastic wrap and tossing it in the bottom of the box, smirking.  
Oscar watched closely as Emmy's smirk turned into a half smile, then into a full-fledged, hearty laugh. She laughed harder, quickly grabbing around her mouth as her chuckles filled the air. Oscar didn't exactly get the giggling bit, but it was interesting to see her react the way she was, her neck craned back as she laughed hysterically.

"What the hell are you laughing about?" Oscar finally asked, getting less amused by her laugh and more concerned. She took two deep breaths trying to calm her nerves as she told him. "That was most disgusting thing I've ever done!"

"Really?"  
"Yep! I've never eaten something so disgusting in my entire life."  
"Congrats."  
"For what?"  
"Joining the world of humans." Oscar said, his hand wrapping around Emmy's shoulder into a side hug. "We eat things that are gross and live long enough to tell others about it."  
"Oh, I'm not telling anyone about this." Emmy laughed, grabbing the heavy book again and flipping to where she'd left off, not aware that Oscar still had his arms wrapped around her shoulders.

He felt like his skin was on fire from where they touched. He wondered briefly if she could feel it too, or if it was just in his imagination. He had hoped it wasn't his imagination as he quickly realized that they were just touching, nothing more. Though, it was a little creepy for him to be making such a bold statement so quickly, he decided to play it off by reading over her shoulder, double teaming the massive book.

She flipped the page once more, carefully moving away from his reach as he arm fell back to his side in defeat. Looking down the 81st page of the Spates Catalog, her eyes widened in surprise when several key words began to show up.

"I found it!" She shouted, sitting up straight as her eyes read the paragraph over and over.

"Koza'Rai, father of Gozer and supreme warlord of the spirit world. Says the first noted instance of Koza'Rai was in Mesopotamia, modern day Iraq, where he one of the great adversaries, with the 'Great Dragon' Tiamat, Gozer the Gozerian, and Heel the 'Concubine'. He rules over the dimensions with an iron fist, raiding and destroying anything that he sees fit. The stories of Koza'Rai changed with the times, as the new Judaic and Christian faiths adapted this evil adversary, changing his name from Koza'Rai to Ha-Satan."

"So, let me get this straight." Oscar said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "Koza'Rai is literally Satan?"  
"Literally." Emmy breathed. "It seems like a lot of religions used him as a bad guy. I mean, Christianity, Judaism, Islam; those are the big three right there."  
"Is there anything on a second coming?"

Emmy flipped through the pages, trying find a previous passage, or hint of a passage to the idea of a second coming. She bit the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. "No, not on a second coming." She said as she kept reading, ignoring Oscar's vulgar curses.  
"There is something on a spell book though. That might have something."  
"What?" She had Oscar's attention. He sat next to her and looked over the page as she read over it numerous times.

"The Gozerian Codex is a spell book that is supposed to be powerful enough to open portals to other realms. Associated with the Egyptian 'Book of the Dead' and the Tibetan 'Bardo Thodol', the Gozerian Codex is a funerary text given the proper order in which a body may be put to rest after death, with spells and incantations to help the soul move on and to even open a portal to the spirit realm."

"Big enough for a God?" Oscar asked, his eyebrow raising high on his forehead. Emmy smiled at him, shaking her head. "It doesn't say. But I bet if we found that Codex it would tell us."  
"Where would we find it? Didn't you say this was in Mesopotamia? I don't think I have enough frequent flier miles for us to just drop in for the day."  
Emmy glared at his joke, though he could see it pained her to laugh at such a stupid joke.

"I think what we need to do is to talk to a Gozer expert and occult book fanatic, see if he's heard of anything."  
"And who are you thinking of, all-mighty smarty-pants?"  
Emmy grinned. "My dad."

* * *

North Moore Street was quiet as the sun rose high over the abandoned buildings. The nightcrawler hoodlums had disappeared into darkness once more as the sun's rays surely burned there flesh – or they were tired from staying up all night. With the different shops opening up around them and the traffic building on the street corner, Emmy and Oscar made their way out the front door of Hook and Ladder # 8, each with a file or two and a heavy book in their arms. Emmy suggested that they take home some homework, snagging a few files for light reading as Oscar only groaned at the idea of reading for fun.

Emmy turned around and locked the front door with her father's key, carefully slipping it into her pocket. She'd mentioned how she was going to put the stolen key back before he got up, but with the sun rising higher in the sky and the clocks all rounded to six o clock, it was going to be a little harder than she thought.

As a gentleman, Oscar walked Emmy to her car, which was just on the opposite side of the street, rusting where it sat. Oscar laughed at the sight of the old Oldsmobile, earning a glare from Emmy.

"What?"  
"Nothing. I just didn't expect you to drive such a… Hot rod?" He questioned, taking in the chipping body paint and the cracked rear window. Emmy shook her head, grabbing her key ring and unlocking the driver's side door.  
"Oh come on."  
"No, seriously. It's a sweet little ride."  
"Stop it."  
"I bet it can go from zero to sixty in about four hours."  
"Seriously!" She giggled.  
"Does it get radio or is there an old phonograph in the console?"

Emmy shook her head, covering her bottom jaw to stop herself from laughing at his stupid joke. He could see she was trying to occupy her time by shoving the book and files into the passenger seat, giving Oscar a nice and opportunistic moment to look at her ass before she turned back around to face him.

"Don't think this means that I like you. I don't."  
"Hell, I don't even like me. I'm annoying as hell, loud mouthed –"  
"And don't forget impatient."  
"I was getting there!" He laughed, nervously running his hand through his hair.

Emmy bit her bottom lip, leaning against the open car door as she watched him. Something about the way she watched him made him self-conscience, like he could screw up at any moment and it might actually hurt his ego. Just by having her audience he felt like he was on display for all to see, if for the first time.

"You're not as bad as you think." Emmy muttered under her breath, hoping that he wouldn't hear her. But the smile on his face quickly told her that he had in fact heard what she said.

"See, if I had this kind of reassurance on a daily basis, I might actually be a normal human being in a couple years." Oscar joked, making Emmy laugh nervously before sliding into the driver's seat.

She closed the door with a thud, quickly rolling down the window when she said "Normal is overrated."

He smiled, thinking of no better way to end that little conversation than with that little statement 'Normal is overrated'. He backed away from the rusted car, waving goodbye to her in a stupor before a honking car grabbed his attention.

"Watch where you're going, dickwad!" The man in the blue Sudan shouted at Oscar as he realized he was now standing the middle of the road. "Move it, you moron!"

Other than the man shouting and his honk blaring in his ear, Oscar also recognized the sound of Emmy's cackling from inside the beaten up Oldsmobile. With his ego thoroughly bruised, Oscar made his way back in front of the firehouse house, watching as both the blue Sudan and Emmy's rusted Oldsmobile drove down the street and into oblivion, leaving him alone on the sidewalk once more.

Walking back to his car, Oscar shoved his hands into his pockets once more as he passed the upside down trash can that had officially been emptied by some brave wild animals in the concrete jungle. He smiled at the idea briefly at the idea of giant rats coming up from the sewer to eat the trash, but his smile was quickly demolished when he saw the crazy old homeless woman from last night, talking to two men in a police cruiser and pointing his way. Oscar quickly ducked into an alleyway, where he took the back roads back to his car.

* * *

First off, I'm sorry it's taken so long for an update.  
I've been busy with another project that I recently uploaded - check it out if you're a lover of all things violent and flesh eating (Zombies!).

Second off, when I wrote this, Twinkies didn't exist anymore.  
I thought it would be a sweet goodbye to the golden cakes that had made reference in the first Ghostbusters.  
But then they came back, and now I look like an idiot.  
SO! It's a little dated, but if you like a bit of nostalgia to a darker and thinner time I'm sure you would have enjoyed it.  
Thank you all for being so understanding, and look forward to more updates in the near future.

I hope you all enjoyed it.

~pure.


End file.
